


There, for the grace of God go I

by Amaranthology



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Comfort No Hurt, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drinking, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Sandalphon Being an Asshole (Good Omens), demonic mojo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaranthology/pseuds/Amaranthology
Summary: Crowley having lost his demonic mojo must confront his feelings for a certain angel to get it back.***“How long?” Aziraphale asked.“How long what, Angel?” Crowley almost spat. “I won’t answer the question if you won't ask it.”There was another pause, this time long enough for Crowley to place down his wine glass and take at least three steps towards the door.“How long… How long… Crowley,” Aziraphale began before losing confidence. But as Crowley turned around and took another step all caution was lost.“Do you love me, Crowley?”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 149
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	There, for the grace of God go I

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this and participating in my first Big Bang! Maybe this will finally drive me to work on my other fic again finally. I'm so so sorry to my readers for being a fail whale.
> 
> Many thanks to MarleenaM for making the beautiful art for my story! There will be another image down the line so you'll just have to reread it later ;)

It was a week past the end that wasn’t and Crowley had come to the book shop in Soho, as he had each day since The Ritz. Occasionally, he entered to see Aziraphale tucked into some particularly luxurious dinner, but more often than not he was reading up on the new stock from Adam.

Today, he had entered just after the dinner hour with a rather old, dusty crate full of wine which he had (forgotten about?). It was in an old storage room he didn’t remember having in his flat at all before the run-in with the Antichrist. 

“Another gift from our dear Adam,” Crowley announced setting it down on top of the book Aziraphale had been reading.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished, retrieving the book quickly and looking it over for damage before replacing it on the shelf.

“Glasses?”

“None clean.”

“Honestly angel, if you’re not going to miracle the damn dishes clean at least hire someone to do it,” Crowley huffed with a snap producing two fine crystal glasses and a corkscrew.

Aziraphale picked up to corkscrew and opened the crate with a minor miracle. He dusted off a bottle gently before removing it from its safe cubby. He read the label, giving a little hum of approval before putting the corkscrew to work.

When the pop of the cork sounded and the wine began to flow, Crowley scooped up his glass and collapsed back on the old couch across from his companion.

The two finished their first glasses in silence, seemingly giving time for the liquid courage to kick in before speaking. Once they tucked into their second glasses they finally seemed to find their footing.

“Sold any books?” Crowley teased.

“I should say not. A small woman stopped in today and rather presumptuously started picking up book after book and piling them up on the counter. I’d never seen anything like it. Well, you can imagine the look on her face when I said I couldn’t sell her the books because we’d just closed up for the day. I had to put back at least 7 books and found another 5 out of place in the process.”

“How… tragic.”

“Yes. Quite,” Aziraphale replied, not understanding the sarcastic tone of the demon in front of him.

There was another small silence as they poured their third glasses. There had been a tension building over the last 7 days, and they both had been dancing around the elephant in the room.

“What are you going to do now, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked with slight trepidation. He needed to know. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else since they made the swap back.

“We, Angel.”

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale paused swallowing stiffly.

“We. What are we going to do? Neither of us has anyone to answer to. Seems a waste to break up the band after 6000 years though,” Crowley explained taking a drink from his glass of wine.

“The band? Crowley, my dear boy, do you even listen to yourself speak?”

“The band. You know us… the arrangement… our side,” Crowley’s voice began to pitch to something between nervous and annoyed.

“I don’t suppose the arrangement matters much anymore. I don’t suppose we even need an ‘our side’ if there’s no one against us,” Aziraphale took a larger than necessary drink from his glass. “We don’t even have to be friends if you’d rather part ways. A demon with no one to answer to…”

Crowley glared at his companion from behind the dark lenses of his glasses and took an unnervingly long drink before refilling the glass, never once casting his face away from the angel in front of him.

“Yes. Please, enlighten me, Angel. What might I want to get up to with no one watching over my shoulder?”

Aziraphale shrank back in his seat. He knew he was being perhaps a bit more of a bastard than was necessarily welcome in the situation, and he knew Crowley better than to assume he’d go round the world in search of wine, women, and song.

“I’m sorry Crowley, that was needlessly cruel. The truth is I don’t know what comes next and I’m rather… uneasy…”

“I forgive you.”

The pair silently looked at one another the weight of Crowley’s words between them. There was no strike of lightning or flame from below. No one showed up to drag them away, and Crowley had been… nice. They were living in a strange new world that neither of them felt particularly comfortable with. They drank in silence, completely wrapped up in their own inner thoughts as the clock in the back of the old bookshop ticked away the minutes.

One bottle was drained,then another. The third bottle was opened before either of them started feeling particularly brave. But still, neither of them knew what to say. Crowley, for his part, was doing his best to give Aziraphale space. He had desperately tried to get the angel to go off with him but he had seemed reluctant. That had been before the apocalypse, however, and the demon was hoping for a different outcome. The Angel had also been considering his previous reluctance and berating himself for being so incredibly stupid. 

Finally, as the last of the 3rd bottle was drained, Crowley stood.

“I guess I’ll be heading out.”

“Crowley, wait.”

“I have been. I’ve done nothing but wait, Aziraphale.”

The silence hung heavy between them as they stood just an arms-length apart.

“How long?” Aziraphale asked.

“How long what, Angel?” Crowley almost spat. “I won’t answer the question if you won't ask it.”

There was another pause, this time long enough for Crowley to place down his wine glass and take at least three steps towards the door.

“How long… How long… Crowley,” Aziraphale began before losing confidence. But as Crowley turned around and took another step all caution was lost.

“Do you love me, Crowley?”

A heartbeat passed before the answer.

“I’ve never known anything else.”

The whole room seemed to pause at that moment. There wasn't even a breath between them as they had both unknowingly stopped. Aziraphale thought he saw a tear escape past Crowley’s sunglasses and down his cheek, but he turned so quickly and strode from the book shop that he simply couldn’t be sure.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” Aziraphale sighed sinking back into his chair.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Crowley didn’t know why he left. He could have attempted to stay there and talk it out. They were free to do that now. But it had taken so much for Aziraphale to even ask the question and the complete blank reply had been just too much for the demon to handle. 

He got into the Bentley and slammed down the gas pedal getting as much speed as he could from the machine. It roared through the streets of London and Crowley saw none of it. His thoughts were like a numbing hum as they sped through his mind, creating a flurry of emotions he had been suppressing for over 6000 years. The bowels of hell hadn’t made him able to feel true remorse or regret. Not even the fall had really pushed him quite that far. Only his Angel could do that.

“My Angel.”

The words hung around him in the car as another furious tear streaked down his cheek. He didn’t move a hand this time to brush it away. He let it fall on his jacket as he found himself headed someplace he hadn’t been in a very long time. He blasted over the Thames and through the smaller streets that remained from the oldest parts of London.

The Globe. It stood as proudly as it had in 1601 but now looked slightly out of place with the modern backdrop. He left the Bentley somewhere it was bound to be ticketed and perhaps eventually towed. A minor demonic miracle placed a rather expensive bottle of liquor in his hand and he entered the theater without anyone taking even the slightest notice of him. When he sat down and saw what the actors were rehearsing, however, he crumbled.

The tears were now running silently but steadily down his face. Crowley consumed perhaps half of the bottle before pausing to gasp for a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding since he was with Aziraphale.

“To be, or not to be: that is the question…”

The actor on stage spoke, clearly projecting out to a crowd of his peers and one demon who remembered this soliloquy more than he’d like. He’d been quite miserable about it at the time, but during his work publicizing the play he had gained a certain fondness for Hamlet. He had spent countless hours replaying Hamlet’s words and both relating to them and wishing to all the world that Aziraphale had felt them too.

“To die, to sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks,” Crowley shouted drunkenly from the seat he had taken in the back of the theater.

“I’m sorry sir, can we have quiet?” The director asked, looking back into the darkened theater. “If you can’t prevent yourself from outbursts you’ll be asked to leave. I don’t care if you're the fair Ophelia herself.”

“Outbursts? Outbursts! You call yourself a… uh… you call yourself Shakespeare? I was there. I spoke to the man. Total hack, by the way. Never met a word he didn’t try to steal,” Crowley said much louder than was necessary. 

“Oh great, we've got one of those guys.” The director said giving a motion to a nearby guard.

“One of those guys? You don’t know what you’ve got. You’re not even a good Shakespeare.”

The guard stopped in his tracks as Crowley snapped his fingers as well as he could manage in his current state and headed up to the stage, bypassing everyone else, now frozen securely in place.

“You know,” He leaned on the front edge of the stage looking to Hamlet. “I saw the first you. Well, not you but the you you’re playing.”

Crowley took another drink of the bottle in his hand before letting it slip to the ground.

“He was rather pretty. I think Aziraphale fancied him. I think his name was Dick something. Anyway, he was more interested in me. Only had eyes for Aziraphale, though.” He took off his glasses revealing his snakelike eyes which had taken over all the white. “And big eyes, these. Not the greatest eyesight though. But I can see him.”

Crowley didn’t know why he was bothering to talk to the man on stage. He had stopped time in the whole theater. At least he had thought it had remained in the theater. As he turned and bumped the bottle next to his foot he saw fit to pick it up again and finish it. One more movement resembling a snap had sent the bottle elsewhere and he replaced his glasses and walked over to the place he had stood with Aziraphale that day in 1601.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Aziraphale rubbed his eyes harshly. Why hadn’t he said… well, why hadn’t he said _anything_? He stood now to pace the shop and nervously fidgeted with the bottom of his worn vest. His feelings were complicated. He loved Crowley, of course. They were friends and had been longer than any other two beings in existence.

But that wasn’t the question he was posing to himself now. It wasn’t the question he had put to Crowley either, and Crowley knew that. Aziraphale had known the truth before he had spoken the words, but he was shocked at the weight of the reply. Had it been always?

The pacing became sharper as Aziraphale considered the last 6000 years. The garden had been pleasant enough. They had spoken briefly a few times. But after he had given the sword away something had changed. Hadn’t Crowley comforted him? A demon took the time to reassure an angel. Why? Had he loved him then somehow?

There had been the time with Noah. Crowley had been happy to see him. And though he had asked a lot of questions it seemed he knew more than he was letting on. He knew Noah’s family so he had to be aware. Had he simply feigned ignorance to talk to him?

Jesus had been similar. He had to have known Aziraphale had no part in the decision of his execution. And he had been kind enough to leave before the resurrection, which made performing such a large miracle much easier.

In Rome, he had been so surprised to hear the demon’s voice in the bar. But then, he did know that Crowley was expected in the area. Aziraphale remembered that he was feeling a bit flustered seeing him again. What had he been feeling? Was it more than just excitement at seeing an old friend? 

Then Crowley had proposed their arrangement. He had been so sure about it. Aziraphale balked, but thinking back realized he had only ever really been afraid for his friend’s safety. 

By the time they made it back to the heart of London, Crowley had successfully tempted Aziraphale into the arrangement, but the angel knew it hadn’t taken much in the way of tempting. He argued that it had just been a logical step. 

They stayed close after that, never living far apart from one another and being just a short contact away. Aziraphale had reasoned time after time that you needed to keep your enemies close. It always failed to comfort him. He feared that they would slip up.

“Slip up. Oh, hell. I’ve loved him since Rome.” Aziraphale said out loud, standing and heading outside the shop. 

To his astonishment, the people in the street and cars were at a full stop. He looked around expecting to see Crowley waiting around the corner but the Bentley was gone and so was he.

“Oh my dear, what have I done?”

Aziraphale walked back into the shop full of panic. Crowley wasn’t here and probably more drunk than when he had left meaning he could be almost anywhere. Realizing that he could accomplish clearer thoughts with sobriety he took a moment to sober up and right himself.

“He can’t be too far. I mean he’d barely left really. But he was in the Bentley so perhaps a bit farther than the normal person, especially in London traffic. Ohhh, he could be anywhere,” he worried.

“I’m just going to go. I’m going to walk outside and find him. He did it at the Bastille. I can do it now.”

With a plan in hand, he exited the bookshop again and had a bit of a chill run down his spine as he looked around at the unmoving humans around him. He took a few steps forward before stopping and closing his eyes. He could sense love. Everyone else was essentially turned off right now giving him the perfect way to locate Crowley.

A pull in his chest faced him toward The Thames and instead of wasting his time on foot he spread his wings giving them only the slightest stretch before taking flight toward his demon. As he got closer to the river, and the feeling became even more amplified, he realized immediately where he would find him.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“I never knew you were one for nostalgia, Crowley.”

The voice echoed in the deadened space pulling Crowley from his thoughts. Everything in him screamed to run, but there was no more will to do it.

“What do you want, Sandy?”

“Sandalphon, if you do please.” The Archangel replied.

“I don’t do,” Crowley replied with a sneer behind his now replaced sunglasses.

“Right. Well, Demon Crowley, I’m here at Her behest. It seems you’ve made a bit of a mess down here. You’ve left them like this too long. She has told us that since you don’t seem to be capable of rational decisions right now you’re going to be placed on a… probation.”

Crowley straightened up, fighting to give Sandalphon more of his attention.

“I didn’t think she was the boss anymore.”

“She tells us that you know what you did and this will be your penitence. Your Grace for miracles, as Demonic as they are, is gone. You’re powerless. And before you ask, I didn’t care enough to actually ask what you did. I’ve given you the message and now I shall take my leave. I’d suspect you have only a moment if you want to avoid that large fellow over there,” the Archangel motioned toward the guard.

Confused and still drunk Crowley didn’t saunter so much as stumble out of The Globe. He turned toward the Thames and found himself struggling even more than he usually did while he was drunk. He thought about sobering up but nothing happened. Crowley could only guess what he was much drunker than he originally thought and tried shaking it off when he heard the soft sounds of wings and feet touching the ground behind him.

“Thank God you’re okay, Crowley!” Aziraphale breathed putting his wings away just as things began moving again.

“S’not okay Angel. Something… happened,” Crowley said sinking into a bench that had suddenly appeared behind him.

“Dear, what is it? Everything stopped. I thought you were in danger.” Aziraphale wrung his hands together glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. He heard a little shouting from the theater but no one exited.

“It’sssss gone…”

“What’s gone? Oh, Crowley what happened when you left?”

“Ssssss’all gone…” He said holding out his open hands.

Aziraphale reached out and took his hands without any hesitation, but as soon as they touched he knew what had happened.

“Oh, Crowley…”

“Ssssorry, Angel.”

“Hush now. I won’t hear it. Where’s the Bentley? Can you drive? No, perhaps not.”

With a snap of his fingers, both angel and demon were back in the office of his old bookshop and the Bentley was back out front as though neither of them had left at all.

“Now, Crowley, tell me what happened.”

“Nothing, Angel. Just got a little carried away. Getting a little punissshment. Won’t be long… probably. Pushed my luck a bit too far,” Crowley stood and headed back toward the door he had already left once tonight.

“Absolutely not!” Aziraphale was suddenly in front of him, wings spread, knocking books off shelves and nearby tables. Never once did his face turn to look at them. All of his attention was on Crowley in front of him. “And take those blasted things off!”

Absently, Crowley removed his glasses and threw them onto a pile of books which were now unceremoniously piled on the floor under Aziraphale’s wings. He took a moment to look at that and realized that Aziraphale had ignored the books to prevent him from doing something which was, he knew, a rubbish idea. His mind went back to the Blitz. The church in which the angel had, once again, thought of him before what Crowley believed was the only thing that mattered to him, his books.

“Sit,” Aziraphale ordered with a movement of wings.

Crowley obeyed meekly and sat on the old broken-in leather couch which had been in the room for as long as he could remember. A blanket was tossed over him and a strong cup of coffee was pushed toward him. He kept his eyes down, accepted the cup and took in the smell. It smelled thick and highly caffeinated.

“We’ll talk once you’ve sobered up. If we’re going to talk, I want us both to remember it.”

The room remained quiet apart from Crowley’s sipping at the coffee and Aziraphale pretending to look busy picking up after himself.

“Drink,” Aziraphale pushed a bottle of water into the demon’s hands whilst removing the coffee cup.

He took the cool water greedily and drank it without pause. When it was empty and he went to set it aside he was grateful to see that by some miracle it had refilled and he sipped at it more leisurely.

“This is as sober as I’ve ever been, Angel,” Crowley finally spoke.

Aziraphale gave a doubtful glance but put the book that was in his hands on the table and sat down. The pair looked at one another and found that neither of them knew where to start. They both cleared their throats to start and then stopped again. It was finally Aziraphale, knowing that he owed it to Crowley, that spoke up.

“About earlier. I’m… I’m dreadfully sorry. I was so stupid. I suppose I’ve been willfully ignorant for a long time. I didn’t answer you because… Oh, Crowley, I was afraid of something happening to you and now it has and it’s still my fault!”

The demon sat, staring, waiting for something else.

“I should have just said it in the first place… Dear, I’ve loved you since Rome. Maybe before Rome. I had been looking for you, you see, and finally someone said you’d been seen heading to Rome. So, of course, I set off there immediately. I heard about the oysters, but they weren’t interesting unless it was with you. That’s why I made such a fool out of myself when I saw you. I tend to ramble on and struggle to think clearly when I’m nervous. I can make quite a fool of myself. You should have seen me with Gabriel during… well, that whole thing before. I’m afraid I may have given up the game for us then. Oh dear, I hope that wasn’t my fault too. You see I tried to instill the fact that you were a worthy-”

Crowley cut off the rambling angel in one swift motion placing his hands on the arms of his wingback chair and pressing his lips firmly against Aziraphale’s. The kiss was fevered but chaste as Crowley stepped back quickly and apologized.

“Oh, Angel. I’m so sorry. This can't happen now. I got drunk and ruined it. She took my grace. I have no idea how long. I can’t even drive the damned Bentley. I’ve blown it. 6000 years I waited for that kiss. Now that was it. It’s all we’ll ever have. I’m useless. Kaput. Nothing. Zero, zip, nada.”

Aziraphale stood, frowning and stepped toward the stairs at the back of his office.

“You’ll stay with me. There’s a room upstairs. It’s not much I suppose, but it has a bed and a closet with a few drawers. I mainly have only used it for someplace comfortable to read. It’s yours now. We’ll go to your flat tomorrow and retrieve what you need. And don’t even think of arguing. We made this mess together and I’ll be damned if I won’t help clean it up.”

Crowley was well aware that he wouldn’t be winning any weak argument he might try to put up. So, he hung his head slightly, walked past Aziraphale and up the stairs to his new home for however long he might be in this crippled state.

“If you need anything you’re to call for me immediately. I’ll hear you. I’ll be keeping the shop closed for now so feel free to go wherever you’d like. But please, if you leave... do tell me.”

“Sure, Angel,” He replied finishing the climb to the top of the stairs and entering a room that seemed lit only by the small lamp on the table next to the bed.

He approached the closet, looking for something more comfortable to sleep in. Normally he would just change with a snap of his fingers but even that was gone. The closet only contained a similar jacket to the one Aziraphale often wore. The chest of drawers next to it didn’t help much either. The top drawer contained two more tartan bow ties and a number of paired off tartan socks. He smiled at the collection and opened the second drawer which he found to be totally empty. Once he got to the third drawer he was both bewildered and relieved to find at least a dozen or more light blue crisp angelic button-up shirts. 

The shirt once unfolded was clearly larger than he would wear typically, but for something to sleep in it seemed preferable to what he had miracled on his body that morning. He looked down at the task in front of him and sighed at his ridiculous choices in fashion.

Staring at his feet (which were feet now, though he hadn’t seemed to have removed his boots back at The Thames), he worked his way up, pulling at the bottom of his pants only to find that they were caught at the top. Crowley struggled with the snakehead belt which had no real purpose beyond fashion and then worked on the buttons and zipper. They both came undone much easier and he found himself having to peel off his pants as though they were a second skin. As they neared his ankles and he lifted one foot up to escape the pants, he stepped on them with his other foot and fell into a heap at the foot of the bed.

“Dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale called up from the bottom of the stairs. He hadn't wanted to intrude on what was now Crowley’s privacy, but he wanted to make sure he was safe and comfortable.

“Yeah, fine,” He mumbled finally getting free from his pants.

A glance down told him that in fact there was another layer there and he decided it wasn’t worth messing with. Next to join his pants on the floor was his scarf, necklace, jacket, and vest. He even threw his watch on the pile, which gave an unceremonious thud.

“It’s FINE,” Crowley called down before Aziraphale could call up again.

Finally, he threw his shirt on the heap and carefully undid the top buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt. Crowley then quickly slid it on over his head and took a leap into what he discovered was an old luxurious down mattress. It took only a moment to adjust to the different sensation and with a feeling of warmth that seemed to radiate through the room he drifted off into what could be mistaken for a mortal sleep.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


Aziraphale busied himself around the shop, listening carefully to every movement and rustle upstairs after the initial collapse of the demon. He ceased breathing so that every part of him was attuned to his new flatmate. He heard the body collapse into the mattress that he had been using for quite a number of years now. The briefest hint of a snore came quickly after.

He paced the downstairs of the shop trying to decide what to do next. He was unsure just how much of an issue this would be. There was the possibility that he would have to eat now and beyond a few snacks there was nothing really to eat around in the small kitchenette upstairs. The bathroom upstairs was somewhat antiquated as well and he considered trying to update it for Crowley’s comfort. 

The risers of the stairs dared not squeak as Aziraphale ascended them, doing his best not to disturb the sleeping demon. He desperately wanted to look in on him but thought better of it. He turned and went into the kitchenette, opened the small refrigerator, and performed a rather minor miracle to put some food in the place in case Crowley grew peckish before he could ask what he might want. 

Looking around rather helplessly the angel realized he was very much unprepared for a house guest and went across the hallway into the bathroom to see what he could do there. The fixtures were antique but still functional and he hadn’t had use for the toilet but now he wondered if perhaps Crowley would. He’s never heard of an angel having their miracles removed. In the end he considered it best just to update everything. At the very least if he ever did have to leave the shop and sell it he’d have added something to it’s value.

He looked around critically and realized he had absolutely no frame of reference for what was fashionable in bathrooms. He considered some of the homes he had seen in magazines when passing newsstands and couldn’t remember anything. With a snap he gave up and a pile of home magazines appeared at his feet.

“Dear, I hope someone doesn’t lose their job for that,” he worried not knowing exactly where he had brought them from.

Flipping through the pages, he noticed a lot of dark colors and hard edges. People seemed to like more natural stones and slates if the magazines were anything to go by. It certainly wasn't his own taste but he felt that Crowley might like it very much. So he got to work very quietly updating the bathroom. It included a rather extravagant multi-head walk in shower with a bench and a his and her sink. He figured it couldn’t hurt with both of them living there for the time being.

Once his work was complete and he tried to send back the magazines from whence they came, he stepped into the hall and stilled to make sure Crowley was still comfortable and asleep. At first he heard nothing but silence and heavy breathing which he took as a good sign and relaxed just slightly. He waited a few minutes more before taking another step toward the stairs back to his office. But he stopped again, hearing another sound from the bedroom. There was tossing and turning at first and then a bit of a strangled noise. 

Aziraphale carefully entered his bedroom and saw a pained expression on Crowley’s sleeping face. He approached the bed and sank to his knees next to it on the floor. He searched the expression for any clue to the dream which was haunting him below. He considered waking him, but knew he was exhausted and perhaps mortal enough to need the sleep rather than want it as Crowley often did. So he did the next best thing he could think of.

“Turn your dream into whatever you like best,” he whispered with a nearly silent snap of his fingers.

The expression on the Demon’s face shifted almost immediately. It wasn’t something that could be read as a full smile but it was a softer expression and as the wave of emotion hit him he recognized it immediately. Love.

“My dear Crowley,” he whispered, laying a hand softly on the sleeping cheek before rising and going downstairs.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


An entire day and night passed then as Crowley slept peacefully. Aziraphale went up to check on him at the striking of each hour to make sure he was okay. The 7th hour of the first day he decided to just summon a comfortable chair and a mindless book. He tried reading the book but frequently realized that he hadn’t actually taken in anything that his eyes had passed across. Eventually, he stopped pretending and just looked at Crowley and realized not only had he been foolish the night before but he’d been foolish for so long. And that foolishness had always led to more pain and suffering for at least Crowley, but sometimes both of them.

The second day finally dawned and Crowley rose with the sun looking bleary eyed and very confused. Aziraphale sat forward in his chair, placing the long forgotten book on the seat behind him and watched as Crowley sat up. The demon rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. He next looked down at himself, drawing Aziraphale’s attention there.

“Is that my shirt?!”

“Suppose it is,” Crowley replied a little distantly looking down to see he wasn’t wearing any pants.

Aziraphale stood and picked up the clothes that had been thrown on the floor and shook them out in a poor attempt at getting the wrinkles out. He took them over to crowley and laid them on the bed.

“I’ll be downstairs. The bathroom is just there. I hope you find it to your liking.”

Crowley looked at the clothes and then at the retreating angel before snapping his fingers expecting a pair of sunglasses to appear in them. But the glasses hadn’t appeared and he looked at his hands as realization slowly came to him. It really was gone. He thought it had been a dream, but as he tried to stretch his wings he found them inaccessible, though their weight was still there.

Without a word, he drug himself from the bed and took his clothes into the bathroom with him. He had seen the bathroom once before and frankly wasn’t looking forward to it even if it was just to splash some water on his face to help him wake up. When he walked into the bathroom however, all drowsiness left him. What stood in front of him was somehow even more sparse and modern than his own. His eyes widened and he realized with some surprise that the angel had done all of this for him. He was eternally grateful as he stripped the unfamiliar shirt and dropped it with the rest of his clothes on the floor next to the door. 

As he stepped into the shower, it seemed to be almost intuitive to his needs as the direction of the spray moved with him. He found himself smiling just a little as he left the shower and grabbed a perfectly warmed towel off the rack. Once he felt dry enough he wiped the steam off the mirror and looked at himself. Not as much had changed as he expected. He wasn’t hungry, he didn’t need to use the bathroom, his hair sort of naturally fell where it always had and no facial hair had grown while he slept. But his expression was tired, worried and regretful.

Looking at his clothes which he so often just imagined onto his body he realized that they were not going to be functional without that particular skill. So he turned back to Aziraphale’s shirt and ironed it a little with the towel warmer before putting it back on. The worst of the wrinkles were gone and though it wasn’t as pressed as Aziraphale always wore them he hoped it would pass muster. He barely glanced at his pants before giving them up and headed back into the bedroom feeling the icy touch on the hardwood on his toes. 

He remembered vaguely seeing socks the night before and headed back to the drawers to retrieve a pair of the hideous tartan he found there. When he sat back down on the bed to put them on part of him craved to return to its softness but he felt he owed it to Aziraphale to show his face finally.

Crowley awkwardly made his way downstairs wearing nothing but a shirt, socks, and underwear from the days before. He was in a state of undress he hadn’t been in front of someone else for quite a number of years. And on top of everything that had happened the days before he felt uncomfortably exposed.

Sitting at his desk with a cold untouched mug of cocoa, Aziraphale pretended to be going through some kind of paperwork.

“Was the shower okay?”

“Yeah. It was very different than last time.”

“I suppose it was time to freshen the place up a little.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow to let the angel know he was aware that the statement was certainly false. He let it pass, however, basking in the comfort of the familiar back and forth. It was almost as though nothing had been confessed or lost.

“I was going to ask if you were ready to go to your flat but looking like that I suppose we’ll be forced to go the speedier course. What happened to your pants?” Aziraphale questioned avoiding looking at the long lithe legs poking out below his shirt tails. 

“They were a bit…” He waved his hands. “Demonic.”

“Ah, well then. Are you ready?”

A nod and a snap of fingers and they found themselves just inside the door of Crowley’s flat.

“Let me know anything you need or want and I’ll make sure it makes it there. Anything at all, dear.” Aziraphale said warmly.

Crowley felt an ache in his chest knowing that warmth was his typical angelic nature and had nothing to do with any feelings he may or may not have had. Their feelings were out in the open now but nothing had changed.

The pair walked right past the kitchen which looked as though it had never been used and past the angel and demon statue which Crowley still insisted were wrestling. But as they entered the main room Aziraphale was stunned to see what looked very reminiscent of the lush verdant Eden they had met in. 

“Oh, Crowley, they’re lovely!”

“SHHHHH. Angel, they might hear you.” Crowley said pressing a finger against Aziraphales lips in a silencing gesture. He left his finger there just a little too long though causing a parade of emotions to pass between them before he turned away again and moved forward into the bedroom looking for some clothes.

“Can’t wear half of this…” The demon mumbled to himself. “Damn it all to hell!”

Aziraphale strode into the room then seeing a drawer of clothes turned out on the floor. It was obvious enough just from looking at them that they were either too old or too tight to be placed on his body by mortal means.

“Let me help.”

Crowley sat back on his rather extravagant bed and rested his head in his hands as Aziraphale moved about the room. A few more drawers opened and closed and finally a closet which he hadn’t used in years opened and closed getting a satisfied sound from his friend.

“What about this? I mean I know it’s older and out of fashion probably but you always looked dashing in a skirt.” 

“Kilt.”

“Yes, same difference. At least it would get us safely to a store though, yes?”

Aziraphale held out the kilt expectantly and Crowley took it, pulling the rest of the outfit from the closet. He turned to change and noticed Aziraphale still standing near the bed.

“Staying to watch?” He offered.

“What?” Aziraphale turned and realized what he was implying. A blush rushed to his face as he turned to leave the room. “So sorry. No please. Just come out with whatever you need.”

The door closed behind the angel and Crowley couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or not. On one hand it showed that he hadn’t lost Aziraphale’s respect, but on the other hand it meant he probably wasn’t interested in the same type of relationship Crowley was hoping for. He changed silently before folding up Aziraphale’s shirt and tucking it between some other items. It was something he desperately wanted to keep close (just in case). Once he found a pair of shoes that he had kept around (just in case) he added them to the outfit.

In the other room Aziraphale looked around examining the plants but being careful not to touch or disturb anything. He looked at the ridiculously ostentatious throne and gave a bit of an eye roll. He had a television but it didn’t even seem plugged in. The rest of the apartment was mostly empty apart from one of Leonardo’s sketches (which bore a striking resemblance to Crowley) and another statue. As he approached it, he realized that it wasn’t a statue at all but a lectern. The memories of the Blitz came flooding back then and he recognized it immediately. He thought about the meeting in the bar after he had been discorperated.

“Souvenir…”

“What’s that, Angel?” Crowley said as he came out with a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“Oh nothing. Just admiring your… view.”

“It’s not real, you know. I found a view I liked and just put it out there. Listen, I know there isn’t room for all of these,” he said waving toward the plants. “I’ll pick the least disappointing ones. The rest of you will stay here. I EXPECT PERFECTION WHEN I COME BACK.”

Aziraphale jerked in surprise as he spoke to the plants and he saw them shiver slightly. It was very evident now that he had merely threatened the plants into submission and they were unwilling to get out of line even if their gardener was no longer able to demonically follow through on his threats.

After about an hour of deciding on which plants had been the best soldiers and putting them aside he was finished. Along with the clothes, and few personal possessions he actually cared about and approximately 30 pairs of sunglasses he had just one book.

“The comedies of William Shakespeare. You always did prefer them.” Aziraphale considered before snapping them all back to the flat above the bookshop.

“I have a sudden new appreciation for the tragedies, if I’m honest,” he replied, putting on a pair of sunglasses he pulled from his shirt pocket. 

The two left the flat on foot this time stopping to pick up a few toiletries (just in case) and slipped into a clothing store with a rather overly flirty attendant trying to put Crowley info the most outrageous clothes they stocked. Instead he had settled on a few basic black pants, a few deep red button up shirts and a black vest with a discreet paisley patterning. The attendant had been rather disappointed when they left together and without his phone number.

“Is there anything else? Food?” Aziraphale asked as they neared the shop.

“No. I’m not feeling hungry. So I guess that’s still normal. It seems I’m just without all the magic,” he said mimicking Aziraphale’s infamous French Drop.

“Well then I guess I’ll have to teach you some REAL magic then.”

“Oh no no no, please, not again! I was kidding!” Crowley groaned in protest as they entered the bookshop.

“You’re still no fun.”

Crowley actually smiled at that, took the bag Aziraphale had been carrying and went to change into something that wasn’t a kilt.

He entered the small bedroom to find it crammed full with plants and what few items of clothing he had been able to salvedge. He quickly found a small gap in the foliage and changed before placing his clothes in the drawers and closet in the room. He padded around in sock feet which were still the tartan from that morning. He searched for optimal locations for all of his plants throughout the bookshop as he noticed Aziraphale again pretending to actually do something.

Once he was finished and the sun had gone down he settled back into the couch in the office where he always sat.

“So what now?” He asked rather bluntly.

“In regards to?”

“Your pick,” Crowley replied sardonically. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“We love each other.”

“IN love.”

“In love then.”

There was a moment of silence before Crowley removed his glasses and relaxed back on the couch.

“Sorry Angel. Feeling a bit…”

Aziraphale chewed lightly at his bottom lip as he considered what to say next. Crowley’s anger was completely justified, he knew, and he needed to do this the right way.

“Quite. Crowley. It took me a long time not only to come to terms with my feelings but now it’s taking me a long time to realize that something between us can be safe. When this happened I started to doubt everything. I can’t have you hurt.” 

“Isn’t this my choice too?”

“You’re quite right. I’ve taken that from you. I feel like I’ve taken so much from you. This could have been prevented if I had just…” Aziraphale paused searching his memory. “Grown a pair.”

Crowley choked on the breath he was taking and coughed.

“Angel, I thought I had done a better job raising you than to use such language.”

“Hush,” Aziraphale admonished with a smile. “I’m in love with you. I don’t care if you’re a demon, human, or tardigrade. I don’t care if you can do 100 miracles or none. I just don’t know what happens next. But I’m willing to go with you.”

Crowley looked into Aziraphale’s eyes then and saw the tears threatening to fall. This in turn made it impossible to keep his own tears from escaping their captivity. He glanced away using the back of his hand to wipe the offender away. 

“I can’t do anything,” he began refusing to turn back to the angel who was now dabbing at the corner of his eyes with a handkerchief. “How can I even touch you? This empty feeling will always be there. Between us. Maybe forever.”

“I don’t care.”

“I care. I can’t sense you the way I did. If you got lost or we were separated…” He trailed off rubbing absently at his eyes again.

“Well I guess we’ll just stay here then. Together.”

“What? All day? Every day?”

“All day. Every day.”

Aziraphale replaced the handkerchief in his breast pocket and stood from his chair walking over to where Crowley still refused to look up from the couch.

“Come on dear,” Aziraphale said reaching out his hand. A record then suddenly came to life on the ancient phonograph as Crowley took his hand. The sounds that followed were those of Freddie Mercury singing ‘You Take My Breath Away’.

He pulled the demon from the couch and pulled their bodies together. It was the first time they had ever touched more than a hand or the side of the arm or the one chaste kiss. Their movements weren’t practiced or graceful and settled in to something resembling two teenagers during a school slow dance. Aziraphale moved his hands up Crowley's arms until they were linked around his neck and his head rested softly on his chest. Crowley’s hands cautiously fell to the small of his partners back, feeling the softness there beneath his fingers. He breathed in the warm scent of his angel and rested his chin in the soft curly hair that crowned his partners head.

The song played as they moved gently, not really moving their feet from the floor.

‘I get ever so lonely from time to time

I will find you

Anywhere you go, I'll be right behind you

Right until the ends of the Earth

I'll get no sleep till I find you to tell you

That you just take my breath away’

“Pick this just for us, Angel?”

“Me? No, I’ve never heard this. It’s lovely.”

They stopped and stepped away from one another and looked around the bookshop expectantly. But no one else was there. Aziraphale felt nothing angelic or demonic except for them. He walked over to the phonograph and removed the needle and the record that was there.

“Vivaldi’s ‘You Take My Breath Away’ then?’” Crowley said, looking over Aziraphale’s shoulder at the record in his hands. 

“Oh really, now? As if the Bentley wasn’t bad enough you’re infecting the phonograph too?”

“Not me! No grace remember?” He said snapping his fingers. Nothing happened and the bookshop remained empty and silent.

“You don’t suppose the Bentley...?”

“Oh, yes, sure, the Bentley. Was tired of sitting out there on the street, grew legs and sauntered in to change the record. Be serious Angel.”

“It certainly wasn’t me! I detest this… this bebop!”

“You didn’t seem to mind when it got you a cuddle,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Maybe it’s just the proximity of the car for this length of time,” Aziraphale dismissed placing the record back in it’s sleeve. “Will probably be them all gone then. I don’t know that some of these can be replaced. Oh, and the wax cylinders!”

“I suppose that’s the mood ruined then?” Crowley had the decency to look sheepish and gave a small shrug of apology.

“Yes. Perhaps another time. Perhaps. What are your plans this evening?”

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Trying to figure out what place a demon with no powers has in the world.”

“Oh, Crowley, I’m sorry. I’ve been rather thoughtless again. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No. Just need time to work some things out. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

Without waiting for a reply Crowley grabbed his sunglasses, ascended the stairs and entered the room which looked both welcoming and heartbreaking. The chair that Aziraphale had been sitting in keeping watch was still near the bed, and now holding the book of comedies he had brought as well as a pile of clothes he had forgotten to put away. As he finished finding places for them he came across the shirt of Aziraphale’s that he had been wearing to sleep in the night before. He changed from the new clothes he had purchased into the blue shirt, ignoring the pajamas he had brought with him. This was far more comforting. Once he crawled into bed and put his sunglasses on the stand with the lamp, he found himself drifting and losing himself in thoughts of disappointment.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


As soon as Aziraphale knew Crowley had fallen asleep, he slipped upstairs and back into the chair gently moving the books that sat there. He didn’t think there was any danger. He just felt more comfortable if he could be sure of it. After all, he hadn’t really thought there was any risk when Crowley had left the shop in the first place and now here they were. A weariness fell over him as he sat watch and finally fell asleep.

For the first time in many years he dreamt. The images were fleeting but he felt as though he was missing something. Some knowledge or information had slipped past him and he was struggling to find the answers.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


When Crowley woke up the next morning, his heart softened to find Aziraphale asleep in the nearby chair. He stood and took the blanket from the bed using it to cover the sleeping angel. He of course wasn’t cold but any comfort he could give made him feel useful.

Without another thought he padded downstairs and retrieved the newspaper that had already been delivered that morning. There were two just inside the mail slot. One of them was The Times and the other was the Celestial Observer which made him scoff a bit. He returned to the office and the couch where he made himself comfortable, still wearing only Aziraphale’s blue button-down and tartan socks. He was sure he would have made quite the picture if Aziraphale was to come down and see. Every inch of his body ached for that eventuality and what he hoped would come next. Until then he simply opened The Times and started reading.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Aziraphale didn’t know what stirred him from his sleep but he suddenly sat up causing the blanket that had been laid across him to slide to the floor. He gave a warm smile and a bit of a blush at having been caught, but softened that Crowley had tucked him in. After just a moment to straighten his clothes he tidied up the bed and headed down the stairs into his office. What he found sprawled across the couch caused his breath to hitch. 

Crowley was stretched across the old brown leather sofa using a blanket and throw pillow to prop him up to better see the newspaper. He had one foot braced against the arm of the couch and one leg looped over the back. If it were anyone but the serpent of Eden he’d have probably been quite uncomfortable. As it stood however, he painted a picture for Aziraphale that he could no longer fight against.

“Saints forgive and preserve me.”

“Whu-” Was all Crowley managed before the paper was gently removed from his hands and Aziraphale was on his knees again much as he had the first night when he took the demons night terrors away.

“I don’t think there is ever going to be a right time. I don’t think slow romance is ever going to work for us.”

“Angel, it’s been the better part of 6000 years. We’re where we are now because of slow… _Agonizingly_ slow romance.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I’ve done it again. I keep thinking too much. I’m a being of love I’m not meant to be in love. I don’t know what to do… Help me.” Aziraphale finished bowing his head.

Crowley sat up then, and slid in front of his angel, placing a hand on his shoulder. His heart felt strangled by the idea that this godly creature would ask him for help with how to love. Nothing he did as a demon included love. There was lust and temptation and he supposed that was part of an actual relationship but he had no idea what was right or healthy, either. They were the blind leading the blind and all he could think to do was just feel what was right and head that way.

He moved his hand from Aziraphale’s shoulder and placed a finger delicately under his chin raising the nervous angel’s mouth to meet his. The kiss this time was less pressed and chaste and instead held a soft longing. They parted, blushing and smiling.

“Sit with me?” Crowley motioned toward the couch pulling the blanket out to put across them.

Aziraphale gladly accepted with a shy glance up as he stood to move to the couch. His first attempt was to sit a respectful distance away untouching his companion who was still rather in a wicked state of undress. That was quickly vetoed with a skeptical glance from Crowley as he picked up the edge of the blanket to make room. Finally he slid closer and Crowley draped his lap with the blanket pulling him into his arms and handing him the Celestial Observer. 

“Mind if I read over your shoulder?” Crowley asked resting his chin there.

“I thought you didn’t read.”

“Well, if it means enjoying the company then I might be willing to give it a go.”

With not a thought about it, Crowley continued to feel his way through planting a tiny kiss on Aziraphales neck, getting a smile and warm blush in answer as he opened the paper and began to read.

The main headline was as always a rather dry drawn out tale of some human managing to find their halo without the aid of anything but the good word of God. Another front page story talked about how many new churches have opened in the last century, notably excluding how very few of those were recent. The news was terribly boring and as Aziraphale turned the page to find a story about a boy saving a lost kitten he tossed it aside and turned to meet a rather surprised demon’s lips. He turned, putting his feet back on the floor and gently touched the side of Crowley’s face.

The tenderness was almost too much for Crowley and he pressed his lips harder allowing his tongue to gently explore his partners lips. What he didn’t expect was how quickly those lips would part. He slowed down a little as he entered and explored Aziraphale’s mouth. The warmth and softness was overwhelming and he let slip a little sound of pleasure which seemed to kickstart things.

Aziraphale felt a chill run down his body at the little sound he heard and he was now pushing forward, unable to think clearly. He felt altogether drunk with love and could do nothing but just keep experiencing… this. His tongue met Crowley’s and the kiss became deeper and warmer. Their bodies were pressed together and his hands had found their way into the demon’s red hair. Oh, how he had loved that hair over the centuries, and now feeling it in his fingers was a unique kind of blessing.

As both of their hands began to wander across each other, and Aziraphale’s waistcoat was lying discarded on the couch, Crowley stopped and pulled back.

“Angel,” he started, catching his breath. “Do you… I mean I do… I’ve always, but you’re still an angel. The Nephilim…”

Aziraphale caught his face in his hands then pulling his beautiful golden eyes to look at him.

“I’d fall a million times for just this moment with you, my beloved. If this is all we get. It is enough. You are enough.”

And with that Crowley, tears falling, pushed Aziraphale back, with his hand behind his head, gently placing him against the arm of the couch. Their lips met again, already parted, and hands moving more precisely now. Crowley had Aziraphale’s shirt unbuttoned and untucked at almost miraculous speed and the two shifted to remove the offending garment without breaking their kiss. Once it was gone the angel reached for his own shirt that was currently covering Crowley. He was quickly stopped in his tracks though as the demon moved his lips to the corner of his mouth and then his soft jaw and onto his neck.

Crowley breathed in the warm, comforting scent of his angel (which was remarkably similar to hot cocoa) and moved down leaving light kisses across his collarbone. The little sounds that slipped past Aziraphale’s lips were like a siren’s song driving him deeper into the sea. His hands led his lips down his chest lightly raking his nails against the soft and sensitive skin there and stopping to place a light kiss on a soft pink nipple which was already giving away his arousal.

Aziraphale had experienced fantasies and had even partaken in a certain amount of self pleasure over the years. He had been on earth for a very long time and it seemed important that he explored everything that humans did. But the idea of crossing the line into sharing that contact and intimacy was not one that he ever allowed to cross his mind. It was expressly forbidden with humans after the incident with the Nephilim and that left him with two options. Option one was another angel, but he detested most of them in one way or another. Option two was a demon. He’d made his choice. After all, he wasn’t technically breaking the rules. But once he was gently laid out for his lover there were no more thoughts and no more options and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As he struggled to remain silent he found himself powerless against the little moans and chirps that slipped out. He was powerless against Crowley, but then he always had been. The detour from one nipple to another giving one only a gentle kiss and using his impossible tongue on the other was the purest form of punishment he’d ever known. His hips raised on their own accord to press against the demons chest, but he quickly was pushed back down at the hips by the lithe hands that had been making their way slowly down.

“Crowley…”

“Yes, Angel?” He said stopping all movement.

“At risk of being a hypocrite, do you think we could… Move it along?” He asked swallowing hard.

“Oh, I’m not going fast enough now?” Crowley smiled, bending down and giving his plush middle a tiny bite, earning a yip of surprise.

Crowley had the shirt he’d been sleeping in off over his head in one swift movement and then looked down at the angel below him and shivered before reaching for the ridiculous number of buttons keeping Aziraphale’s trousers in place. He made his way down the fly brushing (innocently, of course) against the erection that he found there. The sharp intake of breath he got in return made every agonizing second worth it. With just minor assistance from his partner, the pants were gone and they both were on the couch in nothing but socks and underwear.

Aziraphale moved his arms then to cover himself slightly while Crowley towered over him, looking all angles and tightness. He hadn’t even dared to look down the dark line of hair that ran from his chest to places lower. Crowley however, noticed the movement and took the angel by the wrists gently moving his hands away.

“We’ll be having none of that, my beautiful, soft Angel.”

He happily received a blush in return that radiated through his cheeks and into his exquisitely pale chest.

“Are we still? I mean, are you?” Crowley bumbled releasing his wrists and leaning back down his face for a kiss. The nod he got in return drove him lower again this time using tongue and teeth as he trailed across the flesh to his prize.

Once his mouth reached the top of Aziraphale’s underwear he tugged them down with a little more momentum than they had been moving with previously. He was a demon, he was impatient and now that it was so close he had to have it. The sound of his erection slapping back against his stomach made him blush but got a very different reaction from Crowley who suddenly abandoned the removal of the underwear and bent his head down using the widest part of his tongue to lick from base to head before taking him all in.

Aziraphale’s head was spinning at this wholly unfamiliar sensation. Nothing he had ever managed to do to himself was even close to the explosions he was feeling behind his eyelids. They had closed of their own accord and were now providing a beautiful show of color. He relished the moment before finding his bravery and opening his eyes to look down his body. What he saw there made him breathless. The golden yellow eyes looking up at him with so much love and almost worship that he was overwhelmed and his concentration broke, releasing a rather wanton moan.

Crowley found his own erection exquisitely painful as he moved up and down the length of Aziraphale. His cock was perfectly average in height and just a bit plump which breathed new life into many of his fantasies. One hand flatly held the base as his other hand massaged his thick and supple thigh. His movements were smooth and deliberate, making special use of his tongue to gently probe at the weeping head.

“I don’t… it’s… Oh Crowley…” Aziraphale moaned, grabbing at the blanket that had shifted below him. “I’m...”

Words were gone now and his hips jerked finding a deeper place in Crowley’s throat as he cried out for him and came. Crowley held him firmly, taking in every last drop that he had to give until his body relaxed. As he removed his mouth from around the angel he heard another sharp breath followed by a clearing of the throat.

“I… Hopefully that was… I don’t know what kind of protocol there is with these matters…” Aziraphale said sitting up and brushing his hand now against Crowley’s rather painful straining cock.

“For sa...Go… for MY sake, Angel, please!” Crowley begged, grabbing his face again for a passionate and frustrated kiss.

The angel didn’t have to be asked twice. He finished removing his own underwear before pulling the rather ostentatious velvet ones from his partner. What he found there was longer than he expected but lacked his own girth. He pushed Crowley’s back against the back of the couch and returned to the floor where one of the throw pillows had found itself. He took a kneeled position on it as though he were in a church, and for the first time, lightly reached a hand out to touch the person he loved.

Crowley found all of his body buzzing as he watched Aziraphale’s movement but when his fingers reached around his cock for the first time, he couldn’t control himself.

“Oh, FUCK!” He cried out, bucking his hips into the hand there.

Aziraphale took this as a sign that he was doing okay so he moved his hand gently up and down a few times before placing his mouth over the sensitive head and taking his whole length in one motion bottoming out into his throat. The moan from Crowley was almost more of a guttural cry and Aziraphale was forced to keep him pinned to the couch with his hands. He repeated this motion a few times before returning to a shallower movement and exploring the entire length of the demon’s cock with tongue and lips. He saw that removing him from his mouth for a kiss or a lick got a sad little whimper and he decided to save that information for another time. All that mattered right now was showing him how much he loved him.

Crowley felt more emotions than he had ever experienced since before the fall. There was pain, lust, fear and greed there but also love. He knew he had been in love with his angel but feeling it come off of him in such heavy waves made the demon feel as if he was drowning in it. The sensation added to what Aziraphale was doing with his mouth was just too much and before he could warn him he came heavily.

Though surprised, Aziraphale handled his lovers release quickly, taking him deeper and taking all he had. When he had finished he sat back admiring the man in front of him panting and slowly going soft. He blushed again, thinking back on what they had done and reached up to touch the warmth there. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Crowley smiled.

“Oh hush, dear.”

Then with a snap of his fingers, Crowley had the couch put back to rights and Aziraphale’s clothes folded neatly at the end of the couch. There was a beat before they both realized what he had just done.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed with a mix of amazement and perhaps a bit of suspicion.

“How? I didn’t think it was just instinct.You know, lazy demon behavior.” He snapped his fingers again and the clothes he had bought the previous day were now clinging obscenely to his body.

Aziraphale stood now picking up his clothes nervously. It was then that Crowley realized what this must look like to him.

“Angel, I swear I didn’t have it. If I did I didn’t know. I wasn’t tempting you, I swear it. I love you. Please feel it! You must!” He said standing quickly and placing his hand against the bare chest where the angels corporeal heart would be.

The truth of it was Aziraphale did feel it. He had always felt it and lied to himself, swearing he didn’t. But the desperation in Crowley’s voice and his own recognition of the emotions he was exuding were more than enough for him to know that what had happened was real.

“I know dear. I love you too,” he smiled putting on his clothes one slow item at a time. “But you know, I don’t think it was ever truly gone. You said it was Sandalphon who came to you?”

“But I tried and it didn’t work. You saw me. I did the snap and everything.”

“Sandalphon doesn’t have that kind of power, Crowley. He’s a glorified messenger pigeon.” Aziraphale said fixing the cufflinks of his shirt. “I don’t know why that didn’t really occur to me before. I guess I was just caught up in my own thoughts.”

“What do you mean?”

“He takes prayers from down here and passes them along to the All Mighty. Sometimes he’ll bring a message but he doesn’t have the power to do any of the work. Glorified paper pusher.”

Crowley stood dumbfounded and slack jawed.

“So, what? I just decided it might be fun to torture myself? Go through an existential crisis?”

“You’re a demon, remember? Honestly, Crowley do you know anything about your own people?”

“Still not an aardvark. But what in heaven's name does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s as I believe I’ve mentioned before. Evil always contains the seeds of its own destruction. The idea was put to you. And drunk, you followed through. Your own cock-up really.” Aziraphale said with a dry glance as he finished buttoning his waistcoat.

Crowley looked down at his hands and then stared open mouthed at Aziraphale.

“Great, now I have to go through all the trouble of moving eeeeeverything back,” he whined looking back at the stairs.

“You could stay?”

The pair looked at one another, trying to come to terms with the new normal.

“We’ll have to get a newer bed.”

“What’s wrong with my bed? It’s been perfectly serviceable for a… Well, a number of years.”

“Angel, I can’t ravish you in that down bed,” Crowley grinned, heading up stairs to make more permanent arrangements. 

“Oh… OH!”


End file.
